You Won't Wait Forever
by BritLuvr
Summary: My take on what happened after Columbia  Collie  died, how Angel and Collins really met, and what sharing the afterlife with another lovelorn character must be like. Written quickly, sorry if the quality isn't my usual standard. Please R&R!
1. Meet the Dead, Meet the Lovers

**Earning Her Wings**

Columbia hadn't exactly led a good life. She did drugs, she did boys, she did boys on drugs and drugs on boys, she had followed the path to ultimate rock-n-roll sin and it had led her, eventually, to a man with a pickup truck and the devil's eyes. She had fallen in love with an alien, watched him kill her boyfriend, and forgave him, even loved him again. She had died for him.

But in spite of all this, maybe even because of it, she knew she might have a shot at Heaven. Surely all these negatives could be turned around and made positives. Surely she could be saved.

She wasn't in Heaven yet, though, and she wasn't exactly in Hell either. She was in-between, somehow travelling the mortal world without being felt or seen…maybe she was a ghost, just one that didn't really do anything to anyone. She certainly had unfinished business, but there was no way to finish it now: Eddie had already Moved On (yes, it seemed in her mind that the worlds deserved proper capitalization) and Frank was nowhere to be found. So she stuck.

But maybe that was how she could save herself, by helping someone else. Her death—could she really call it a murder?—had happened nearly twenty-six years ago, and still she had Moved On. Stuck in limbo, as it were, she had taken time to see it all: Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, the whole shebang. And finally, she had decided to go home…but Denton bored her and reminded her of what was and what is, so she fled and took the chance to see the rest of the country, sweet America, land of rock-n-roll. California, Nevada, Texas, Louisiana, Florida, Tennessee, and then finally, she ended up in New York. Weeks of aimlessly roaming around had brought her to the seedier side of NYC, and in spite of the fact that she was in no real danger, she became afraid. She walked quickly, looking over her shoulder in paranoia, rounding each corner carefully, until she accidently stumbled upon him: Small, lithe, Hispanic, but adorable, the sort of boy that would have been her best friend. He was drumming a mean beat on the city street with his meager possessions, getting by in the truly rock-n-roll way of things, on only the scraps he apparently earned from his drumming. She wished she had something to give the boy, but she was flat-broke even if she wasn't dead, so moved slowly on by, savoring the music as she wound her way back up the streets. Not but an alleyway away, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of a badly broken body. Panicked, she ran back.

"Hey! Hey you! Ya gotta come help!" She raced to the boy's side, wheedling him with her nasally voice. "Some guy's badly beat up and—hey! Hey! Are ya even listening to me?"

Frustrated with her inability to help, panic swelling her bosom, Columbia grabbed the drummer's wrists insistently, conveniently ignoring the way her hands passed right through.

"Ya gotta come help!"

The boy looked up, puzzled, but kept on drumming. This time she grabbed his shoulders.

"C'mon!"

He stopped again, then heard the low moan. He was at the other man's side in an instant.

"You okay, honey?" Columbia's heart warmed a little at the boy's voice, so soft, so full of concern.

"I'm afraid so," replied the other, forcing himself into a sitting position. Columbia's personal panic for the man lessened as she watched the little drummer boy take care of him, learning with only some vague surprise that it was Christmas Eve…again.

"I'm Angel."

"Angel…indeed. An Angel of the first degree."

And Columbia watched them leave together, arm in arm, with the feeling that she had sparked something quite accidently. Over the next few months, she watched the spark grow and blossom into a passionate love for once another, the man—Collins—and the boy—Angel. Angel, for all his kindness and joy, for all his similarity to Columbia herself, hurt her a little in the heart. He was a cross-dresser, like Frank. A good one, though, unlike Frank: For though Columbia loved the doctor very much, he looked nowhere near as adorable in drag as Angel. She was happy to watch the romance as it budded, oddly unable to leave them; after all, she had eternity, didn't she? She may as well spend some of that time watching a happy love story.

It was all a fairytale…until the unthinkable happened.

_A/N: DundunDUN! XD Hai guys! This is just a quickie for me, I promise...but someone mentioned that they wanted more RENT fic, and the little Collie that lives in my head said she wanted to do some good. Sorry if it all sucks, it was done in one night and might lack a bit. Use your imagination is my suggestion. :) This is kind of my explaniation of both Angel and Collins' way-too-coincidental first meeting and Columbia's story post-Rocky Horror. If you don't like, bleh! ;D BTW, yes, I know the inside has a different title. That's because I liked them both. So, again, bleh! ;3 ~BritLuvr~_


	2. Awkward Introductions: The Newly Dead

Columbia stood by the door, quietly sobbing. Kind, sweet, lovable Angel lay in the hospital bed, dying of AIDS, held by his lover through and through. She daren't draw any closer for fear of ruining their privacy; she daren't leave for fear of losing the endearing drummer boy. So she watched from as far away as she could get and still watch, her ethereal makeup unsmeared by her otherworldly tears. He was fading, she could tell: This was last night on Earth. When the heart-monitor went silent, her hands flew to her mouth to stifle her sobs, disbelieving eyes silently begging the boy to come back to life and keep the loving the man that cradled his body.

There was a presence at her elbow, but she didn't really care. Nurse or no nurse, Angel was dead.

"Is that really me?" With a muffled gasp, Columbia spun quickly to find Angel, looking better than he had in months, standing beside her. Mutely, she nodded her head, sympathetic to the boy's plight. "Oh…poor Collins."

"Do ya' always think of him first?"

His eyes met hers.

"Always."

"Oh." And hers looked away. "I was gonna say 'poor you', seein' as you're dead and all."

He looked away, unable to handle it, and she knew what she had to do, why she hadn't moved on.

"I'm Columbia," she announced, thrusting her hand at him and grasping his tightly. "I died nearly twenty-seven years ago after being shot with a laser beam by my best friend's brother for trying to protect the man I loved." Angel stared at her with wide eyes, taken aback by the blunt honesty. "It's not such a big deal to me, ya' know. Bein' shot, bein' dead. I got to make something good happen while I was dead, something I never coulda done while I was alive."

"What did you make happen?"

"That," she said, gesturing toward the crying Collins who was just now laying Angel's corpse back down. She winced and corrected herself. "Well, not _that_. I mean, your love."

"We would have loved each other—"

"Sure ya' woulda," she said with a shrug, putting her arm around Angel's shoulders. To him, she was a kind, if queer, stranger; to her, he was a best friend, almost a brother. "But _I_ introduced ya'!"


	3. Waiting, But Not Forever

Angel listened attentively to the whole story, from her birth to her death to her afterlife to her admittedly wrong stalking of him and his lover. He never stopped to correct her, or accuse her, or berate her, only to ask questions. He thrilled her, his audience, his attention.

"And as near as I can figure out, I'll be stuck here 'til the end of time!"

He nodded slowly, soaking it all in.

"So…we're…ghosts, then?"

"Sorta, I guess."

He stared forlornly out the subway window. Columbia had tried to talk him into moving out of New York, but he knew nothing could tear him out of the city of his lover, death included. He had lost his luster, his life, and Columbia had assumed the role of guardian and guide.

"Hey, cheer up!"

"I can't," he sighed, leaning back against the seat. "Collins and I…we really found it, love, and now it's gone."

"It's not gone," she said quietly, sitting next to him in the nearly-empty compartment. "Love can't get lost, doesn't go away…love is forever." And her eyes, he saw all the pain of loving two men and losing them both, even in the afterlife. "You won't wait forever. I might—mine are long gone—but your's will come back someday."

Angel nodded quietly, sensing her truth. It was best to wait.


	4. Songs and Games

_Goin' where the wind blows,  
>Goin' where the lost ones go!<br>I will be with you;  
>I'm losing the love I found,<br>Crying without a sound,  
>Where have you gone?<br>I will be with you._

The words echoed back at the two. Angel had been dead for nearly eight years, Columbia nearly thirty-five. The two had eeked out some existence in New York, floating randomly by, always avoiding Alphabet City and Collins. Sometimes they saw Mark, continuing his film career, or Joanne, topping the charts as a lawyer, but the incidents were few and far between.

The radio was playing the song quietly in the empty subway station, and the odd pair lingered to listen. They had become much more lively, adventurous, happy, except on the solemn occasions that they were reminded of their respective loves. The song, thought beautiful, filled them with an odd sort of melancholy. For Columbia, it was that of a lost lover and a dying age; for Angel, a love not yet returned to him.

"Paul Stanley…who knew KISS would become so popular?" Columbia asked. After her death, she had kept rock-n-roll as her hobby, and the continuance of older bands never ceased to amaze her.

"Oh, they were huge," Angel agreed. Suddenly, he needed this song. "Hey, Collie?"

"Yeah?"

And he tweaked her cheek.

"You're so old!"

She grinned mischievously, diving after him.

"You're gonna pay for that!"

And the two scampered off, laughing and shouting, as the last guitar chords died out overhead.

_A/N: The song quoted at the top is "I Will Be With You (Where The Lost Ones Goe)" from Sarah Brightman's album Symphony. It's a duet sung with Paul Stanely. All rights are their's, y'know? :) It's the song that inspired this idea, so haven't heard it yet, you should go do so. NOW. ;P ~BritLuvr~_


	5. No More Waiting

There he was. No announcements, no formal introductions; just suddenly one day he appeared.

Angel and Columbia had been walking around the market, commenting on this outfit or that, sniffing the more delectable wares and wishing they had the need and the means to eat again, when he came shuffling through the crowd.

"Oh my God, Collie, we have to leave!"

"Why, Ang?"

Mutely, the drag queen pointed; Columbia followed his accusing finger all the way to the cause of his unease, to Collins. Even with his head down and his hands demurely in his pockets, even downcast and downtrodden, there was no mistaking him. With a quiet "eep", Angel turned and made ready to sprint in the other direction. Columbia saw it first, and caught him by his wrist before he could escape.

"Ang, _look_."

And Collins was still shuffling through the crowd, but as he drew nearer it was all to obvious that he was really shuffling _through_ them. He was gone, then; dead; a ghost in limbo, not yet Moved On like all the rest. Angel stopped and stared, dumbfounded.

"Honey?" he squeaked, barely daring to believe it. Sad brown eyes lifted, full of pain which suddenly turned in mystified shock to the drummer.

"Angelcake?"

And before Columbia could blink, they were warmly embracing. She watched them, their love, the love she had accidently started, and her heart melted. Collins meant she would lose Angel, but she never would, not really. They were a part of each other, in a sense they were each other, and that gave her peace as the joyous couple began to glow and then fade.

"Goodbye," she whispered forlornly, feeling forgotten. "Good luck."

Angel turned then, arms still around his lost love, and he said something. His voice was lost, maybe somewhere in the light, but Columbia didn't need to hear it to know the four words being mouthed at her.

"_You won't wait forever."_

And she smiled through her tears, knowing them to be true; knowing that for once in her afterlife, she had not only done the right thing, but would be rewarded for it eventually. The light faded, the couple faded, but she wasn't left alone in the shadows.

"Oh, baby!" From out of the crowd came another figure, a figure which even thirty-five of death and separation could not possibly alter, a figure whose every curve and line was known to Columbia, holding out his arms to her.

"I've been looking _everywhere_ for you." She let him hold her, smiling through the renewed tears and tight lump in her throat. You won't wait forever, nobody waits forever: It all comes back someday.

_A/N: Awww, over! :'( Haha. Hey, cyber-hugs to whoever among you can figure out who's with Collie! I'll give you a hint; the answer can be found subtly hinted at in the first chapter. Sorry the ending's so rushed! ~BritLuvr~_


End file.
